


The Proper Ritual

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teal'c finally finds the opportunity to perform the proper ritual for Daniel's death and invites Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill to participate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proper Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Sam and Jack needed to talk...and other stuff. Many thanks to Wendy for her usual brilliant help.
> 
> Originally posted November 2003

The Proper Ritual

 

Teal'c solemnly surveyed the room. Well over one hundred candles cast a soft glow over Major Carter's living room. He had shifted all the furniture to one side and spread a soft mat on the floor, along with some pillows. He didn't mind the small discomforts that sitting on the floor brought to his body, but he knew his two colleagues would be more comfortable this way. 

 

"Is everything ready?" Samantha Carter stood uncertainly in the entryway. She was dressed as he'd asked, in comfortable clothing and was barefoot. He nodded. Only one thing more was necessary. The doorbell sounded and Teal'c felt an uncustomary rush of relief. This next step had been a gamble. 

 

She had already started towards the door. "I'll get rid of whoever it is."

 

Teal'c reached her quickly, gently grasping her arm. "That will not be necessary." He brushed past her and made his way down the hall. He was dimly aware of her small gasp of dismay when he opened the door to reveal O'Neill. They were briefly frozen there in that tableau, Teal'c vividly aware of the tension flowing between his two friends. Major Carter was still hurting and even though O'Neill was better at hiding his feelings, Teal'c knew he still carried the burden of Daniel Jackson's untimely death.

 

"Teal'c, Carter." O'Neill seemed to almost cautiously enter the house, pulling his black watch cap off his head. 

 

Teal'c nodded. "I am pleased that you could join us."

 

"Yeah, well hard to turn down your request, big guy." O'Neill looked directly at Carter for the first time. "Something about dismemberment."

 

"Ah," she murmured, and said nothing more. Her quiet acceptance of O'Neill's unexpected appearance at her house telling him more than words ever could of her need to settle the rift he sensed between them.

 

"So," O'Neill continued in the ensuing silence. "What now?" He shrugged out of his jacket, revealing his standard off-base attire of khakis and an over-sized shirt. 

 

"We will begin," Teal'c replied enigmatically. "Please remove your shoes."

 

Teal'c waited a moment to be sure O'Neill would actually follow his command before turning back down the hallway. Major Carter still stood uncertainly behind him.

 

"Teal'c," she whispered almost urgently when he reached her, one slim hand coming out to rest on his arm. "I thought we...I mean, just you and I were going to do this."

 

"I believe that O'Neill will benefit from this as well." He could tell she wasn't convinced, but she nodded her head in acceptance. There wasn't much else she could do, aside from throwing O'Neill out. And Teal'c knew she would never do that. 

 

He waited at the doorway to the living room as first Major Carter and then O'Neill sidled past him into the room. The two stood awkwardly in the midst of the pillows and candles.

 

"O'Neill," Teal'c said, gesturing to a pillow on the floor at his left, "please sit down." Not waiting to see if the other man followed his direction or not, Teal'c sank gracefully to the ground and then gestured to a pillow setting across from him and next to O'Neill. "Major Carter." She smiled weakly and sat down cross-legged on the pillow. Her knee accidentally touched O'Neill's leg and he saw her stiffen slightly, but she didn't move away.

 

Teal'c sat quietly for a few moments, absorbing the energy in the room. It was early afternoon, but the closed curtains and candles disguised that fact enough that one could almost believe it was evening. The normal time when such a ceremony would take place. And while he normally could have arranged to have leave for the entire day, he had chosen to only be away from the base for the several hours needed for the ceremony. He took a deep breath, the faint scent of sandalwood drifted pleasantly in the room, adding to the calm and quiet atmosphere. 

 

A calm and quiet atmosphere vibrating with the tension he could feel emanating from his friends. What perhaps surprised him the most was the almost frantic energy he could sense from Samantha Carter, though she sat still and quiet. O'Neill, while also quiet was fidgeting slightly, never completely still. And while Teal'c could sense powerful feelings just beneath his calm exterior, it was nothing compared to what he felt from Major Carter.

 

Teal'c heard O'Neill clear his throat and before he could say anything, Teal'c intoned calmly. "On Chulak, amongst the Jaffa when a great warrior has fallen, there is mourning but there is also great joy." He glared at O'Neill when he gave a derisive snort.

 

Much to his dismay, Major Carter jumped to her feet. "I knew you wouldn't take this seriously," she snapped at O'Neill and then turned to him. "Why did you invite him? I thought..." Her voice trailed off and Teal'c realized grimly that she was fighting back tears. 

 

"Major Carter," he murmured, keeping his voice low and soothing. "Please sit back down."

 

"Yeah, Carter," O'Neill added, his voice apologetic. "If you and Teal'c think this is important then let's do it."

 

She looked at O'Neill for a long time, as if trying to determine his sincerity before finally sitting back down. This time Teal'c noted, not quite as close to O'Neill as before.

 

He continued. "Many strive but few achieve the next stage of the journey. Our friend, Daniel Jackson, is one of the chosen few who have left this world for one where he may continue to help others along the path to enlightenment." Teal'c pressed the start button on the CD player's remote. He normally preferred silence, but knew his human friends would find music helpful. While the Vivaldi played softly in the background, Teal'c continued and began to recite the familiar and comfortable words of the Jaffa ritual for the dead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam felt the tension and stress of the past weeks slowly drain out of her. The music was familiar and soothing and while she couldn't understand a single word that Teal'c recited, since he was speaking in his native tongue, the soothing rhythm appealed to her and it reached deep inside her. For the first time since Daniel's death she could feel some semblance of peace begin to fill her soul. 

 

Her eyes flew open when a muffled snore rumbled next to her--O'Neill. Teal'c remained undisturbed, his eyes closed, a look of peace and contentment on his face. She had seen that very look often enough now to know he had reached a state of Kel-no-reem. Another snore from O'Neill had her gazing down at the sleeping man. He looked tired, she realized, really studying him for the first time in days. The dark circles under his closed eyes more pronounced in the dim light. She sighed. Maybe she'd been judging him too harshly. Everyone dealt with grief and loss in their own individual way. And he had come to participate in Teal'c's ritual--even if he had fallen asleep. And while she craved more from him, it seemed like this was all she was going to get. 

 

The music faded to a stop and Sam wondered if she should start the CD over when Teal'c suddenly spoke. "You are better, Major Carter?" 

 

His solemn brown eyes were open and she could see the concern in them. Teal'c had also done his best to help her with her grief and while she still wasn't sure how she felt, she did feel better.

 

"Yes," she replied as honestly as she could. "Thank you," she added. "For sharing this with me."

 

Teal'c stood then and she took the hand he held out to her, allowing him to pull her up. "You are most welcome. It is a right and good thing that we do this for Daniel Jackson."

 

She held onto his hand when he would have released it, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're a good man, Teal'c."

 

She wasn't sure if she'd embarrassed him or not, but his eyes flashed with pleasure before he inclined his head towards her. "Shall I wake O'Neill?"

 

Sam followed his gaze to where the Colonel still lay sprawled out and snoring softly on the floor. She didn't have the heart to wake him. "No, let him sleep." She looked back at Teal'c. "I know this has been hard on him, even if he won't admit it. Damn stubborn man."

 

"O'Neill is a man who feels things very deeply."

 

Sam sighed and nodded her head in agreement. There really wasn't much else to say to that. Teal'c was right and she certainly should have learned by now that if her commanding officer didn't want to share something with her, he wouldn't. It wasn't his fault that she wanted more from him than he was willing to give. What had happened to them, she thought sadly, that they couldn't even share in their grief?

 

She realized Teal'c was still speaking. "I will take my leave of you then." 

 

"I'll bring the candles back on Monday?"

 

He looked up from where he knelt while tying his boots. "I have sufficient candles on base."

 

"Thank you again," she reiterated as she opened the door. 

 

He smiled and inclined his head again. And then he did something that surprised her. He was almost out the door when he stopped and turned back to her. "Do not judge O'Neill too harshly. He would not have agreed to attend the ceremony if he were not still feeling pain." And with those enigmatic words, he turned and left. 

 

Sam watched him until he got into the motor pool car and drove away suddenly wondering at the wisdom of having a sleeping Jack O'Neill in her house. 

 

Returning to the living room, Sam began to quietly put out the candles, stepping carefully around the Colonel. She gasped when a hand suddenly fastened around her ankle, dropping the small candle snifter Teal'c had left for her. Half bent over, she was unprepared when he tugged on her arm next, tumbling her down onto the floor next to him.

 

"Sir...what?" she gasped when he rolled on top of her, pinning her between his body and the hard floor.

 

"I don't want to hear it, Carter," he growled. "You want to help me deal with this? Isn't that why we're here? To help me forget that Daniel is gone? That someone else under my command has died? Someone who was a hell of a lot more valuable to the SGC than I'll ever be?"

 

His eyes were dark and full of something she didn't quite recognize, something that frightened her. She knew he was dangerous now, but the pain she saw lurking in his eyes couldn't be ignored. And even if he couldn't comfort her, she could at least comfort him.

 

"It's all right," she murmured softly, shifting a bit beneath him, vividly aware of his aroused body pressing into hers. He stiffened when she reached up, drawing his head back slightly as if he expected her to do something other than what she did, which was to gently caress his cheek. 

 

He grabbed her hand, his grip painful as he forced her arm over her head and down onto the floor. "There's only one way you can help me, Sam." His voice was low, his breathing harsh and the implicit threat in his words meaningless to her when faced with the desperation in his voice. She had wanted him to stop pretending. And it looked like that time was finally here.

 

Driven by a need she could no longer deny, she whispered, "Then let me help you." 

 

The momentary flash of surprise on his face was quickly replaced with one of pure desire. He smiled, that slow, easy one that usually sent her heart racing, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes. Ignoring the chill she felt in her heart and the small voice of warning that sounded in her brain, Sam reached up with her free hand, lightly tracing her index finger along his lips. He growled low in his throat and grabbed that hand as well. She moaned softly as his weight sank heavily onto her, holding her captive along with his hands still gripping tightly at her wrists. He lowered his head, blocking the light that still bravely shone from the handful of candles she hadn't managed to extinguish. She closed her eyes, suddenly afraid of what he might see in her them--the vulnerability that she couldn't conceal.

 

His mouth settled onto hers, but instead of the wild, passionate kiss she had expected, he merely brushed her lips with his. The soft, teasing caresses were unexpected and built a slow ache within her. "Sir," she whimpered, opening her mouth to him. 

 

He groaned, the sound rising from deep within his chest and he finally claimed her lips in a deep, savage kiss. Sam was lost, his tongue swept deep into her mouth, carrying her away on a storm of passion. He was forceful and demanding and she found herself helplessly responding to him. With hands that had been released from his grip, she clutched at his shoulders, trying to anchor herself to his strength. 

 

She whimpered into his mouth, clutching even tighter when she felt him pull away. Her moan of protest changed into a sigh of relief when she realized he was merely trying to remove their clothing. Their hands met, fingers tangling, fumbling and tugging at buttons and zippers. He reared back, straddling her hips and ripped his shirt off. His hands went to her T-shirt next and she eagerly helped him, raising up to aid in its removal. Her sweat pants and panties came next, Jack merely rising to his knees and tugging them off her. She watched in breathless anticipation then when he finally managed to shuck of his trousers and boxers.

 

Oh god, her mouth went dry when faced with his obvious arousal. Doubt flittered through her mind again, questioning her wisdom in trying to heal him--to heal their relationship this way. But then it was too late; he covered her, his hard body once more pressing her into the pillows. She moved with him, spreading her legs and raising her knees, allowing him to nestle his hips against her. It was all happening too fast. She didn't think there was any way she could possibly be ready for him. But it didn't matter, she realized faintly; she would gladly give him whatever he wanted. Her soft moan mingled with his deeper one when his rigid length slipped through her damp folds. She shifted, angling her hips, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

 

One large hand gripped her hip; the other threaded through her hair, forcing her eyes to his face. Any earlier trepidation she may have felt at their actions faded when presented with the wild longing and desire she saw in his dark brown eyes, all focused on her. For right or for wrong, her most secret longing was about to be answered. "Jack," she whispered, finally giving voice to his name.

 

He groaned her name, his hand tightening in her hair and on her hip. And then it was happening, his pelvis moved against her, his thick penis broaching her snug passage. She moaned, closing her eyes, it had been so long and it had never been like this. His earlier impatience had somehow been replaced with excruciating calm as he ever so slowly took her. She felt herself start to tense and forced herself to relax as his relentless assault stretched her tight muscles. It was almost more than she could stand and she cried out softly when he thrust deep and seated himself fully within her silky depths. 

 

He didn't pause, he didn't give her time to adjust, he just started driving into her. Whatever discomfort she felt soon faded beneath the ferocity of his desire and she was once more swept up into the vortex of passion that had engulfed him. She clung to him, unable to do much more than just accept his powerful movements and pray that it would be enough. Soon his big body began moving more erratically against her. Locking her legs around him, Sam held him tight when he shuddered violently against her, her name a hoarse cry on his lips as his hot seed filled her. 

 

He collapsed heavily on her, his muscles still quivering randomly in the aftermath of his orgasm. She held him close; murmuring soothing words, caressing him in touches designed to calm. He groaned softly and more of his weight settled on her as he nestled deeper into her embrace. And she held him, ignoring the slight twinges of discomfort, soothing him until his breathing became calm, his body lax and replete against hers. And it was enough, she decided, that he had found some measure of peace within her body.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack rolled over, his head hitting the floor with a soft thud. He groaned and struggled to open his eyes, feeling incredibly groggy. Finally managing to open one eye, he realized he was on the floor. Never a good sign, he decided. Especially since this didn't appear to be his floor. He was also naked, though partially covered by some kind of soft throw. 

 

Shit...it all came back to him in a rush. Teal'c's 'ritual for the dead', Carter's house, sex with Carter on her living room floor. Jack rolled to his back, staring up at the ceiling and let the guilt and shame wash over him. Incredible sex that left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn't wanted to join them for their little ritual. But Teal'c had been persuasive, and if he were honest with himself, Jack had known sooner or later he'd have to deal with what was left of his team. He had stupidly believed that he could ignore them and their grief. But he'd been too busy ignoring his own pain and distancing himself from the ones whom could help him. 

 

Distancing himself, that was a laugh. He'd immediately accepted the mission to rescue Thor, once more putting his team in danger. Almost getting all three of them killed. And now this. He sighed, putting his forearm over his eyes. All he had planned on doing was making an appearance so Teal'c would quit bugging him and Carter would quit looking at him with those wounded eyes of hers. He certainly hadn't planned on seducing her. He winced, right...some seduction. He hadn't been particularly concerned with her reaction--or pleasure. Intent only on his own drive towards oblivion. Shit, he wondered tiredly, whom had he been trying to punish? Her or him? Or both of them for being alive while Daniel was dead? So much for ignoring the situation.

 

The house was quiet and he wondered where Carter was, the pain in his gut increasing when he thought about seeing her. He listened for several long moments and when he didn't hear anything, he sat up and started scrounging around for his discarded clothing. He wasn't sure he could face Sam, she'd want some explanation and she'd want the truth. Which scared him more than facing any System Lord. Because if he told her the truth, then he'd have to face it himself.

 

He finished dressing and carefully stood, muscles protesting his brief sojourn on the floor. Or maybe not so brief, he glanced at his watch. Almost 1700. Peering around the opening into the hallway, he didn't see Sam. Making a cautious break for the door, he walked quietly down the hall, slipped on his boots and had just placed his hand on the doorknob when he heard her.

 

Jack?"

 

Shit. Before he could even turn the knob, her surprisingly strong hand closed around his wrist. He turned and she was there. He tried looking at her without meeting her eyes, but in the brief moment when his gaze slid over hers he was momentarily taken aback by the fierceness of her expression. She wasn't mad, he knew that and while deep inside him a flame of hope flared into life, he quickly tamped it down. Falling back on his old, familiar tactics he muttered. "I don't want to hear it, Carter."

 

He hand tightened briefly on his wrist, her nails momentarily digging in before he sensed her controlled effort to relax. "It's too late for that, Jack."

 

"I can make that an order, Major." He was grasping at straws and knew it.

 

"We're not on base. And besides, we've gone way past Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter." 

 

He let his hand slide off the doorknob when she gave a gentle pull. Finally meeting her gaze, Jack saw only gentle affection mingled with Carter determination. 

 

"I've got some home-made chicken soup. Come have something to eat and then we can talk."

 

Her casual invitation stunned him and he looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "Carter, I just screwed you on your living room floor and you want to feed me?" He felt his guilt intensify when she winced at his crude description of their encounter. And it didn't improve when her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

 

"Anything is better than having you shut me out."

 

He winced then, her remark hitting home and he just stared at her. She tugged on his arm again and letting his coat drop, he followed her down the hall.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam dished out the second serving of soup and grabbed another package of saltines before going back into the dining room. Jack mumbled a quick "Thanks" when she set the bowl and crackers in front of him, crumbling a handful of saltines in the hot soup before digging in. Sam sat down opposite him and took another spoonful of the delicious broth. Too bad it tasted like sawdust, she thought sadly. There was a louder than usual slurping noise from Jack. Evidently their impending talk hadn't ruined his appetite the way it had hers. The calm she projected was just that—a projection. Inside she was a basket case.

 

Two hours earlier, when she'd extricated herself from beneath Jack and left him sleeping, her plan had seemed much clearer. She had been naively optimistic that once the physical barrier between them had been broken, the mental barrier would tumble as well. His earlier attempt to escape had shown her how foolish that thought had been. But...he hadn't left. And he would soon be finished with his second bowl of soup. And they'd have to talk. 

 

She choked down another spoonful of soup, desperately trying to remember that this talk was her idea. She'd wanted to talk for almost a month now. She knew she should be worried that their earlier sex would muddy the waters, so to speak. Too bad they were already so murky. Maybe, she thought optimistically, the unexpected intimacy would help. And unexpected it had been. Using sex for comfort wasn't unusual. For her and Jack to have any kind of sex took everything to new levels. Better levels, she hoped.

 

"Great soup, Carter."

 

"Thanks," she smiled gamely. "Do you want some more?"

 

"Nah," he replied, setting his spoon down and wiping his mouth with his napkin. "All finished."

 

"Great." She jumped to her feet and began clearing the table.

 

"Sam?"

 

"Won't take but a second." She rushed into the kitchen, dumping dishes into the sink. She reached for the faucet when Jack's hand closed over hers. He was too close, both his hands closing over hers.

 

"I thought you wanted to talk?" 

 

His presence had its usual effect on her and she took a deep breath. "Let's go into the living room," she muttered and escaped out of the kitchen. And right into the room that immediately assaulted her with memories of earlier that afternoon. She'd cleared out the mat and put the pillows up, but she could still see them there, entwined together on the floor. Closing her eyes, she opened them immediately when she heard him. He stood in the entryway, looking a bit wary, his expression becoming more remote the longer she just stood there. 

 

She finally gestured for him to come in and sit down, and then sat herself, perched on the edge of one of the chairs. Jack sat on the sofa, his casual pose betrayed by the clenched hands resting uneasily in his lap. Oh god, she loved him so much, there had to be a way to reach him before he closed down again. So she started talking.

 

"I wasn't ready for Daniel to die." She shook her head, realizing how stupid that sounded. Standing, she paced the small room, aware of Jack's now unwavering gaze upon her. She looked down at her hands as she continued. "I know we lose people, that it's one of the risks of what we do." She glanced at him, he was still focussed on her, the intensity of his eyes somehow reassuring. "But this time..." she felt the tears she hadn't let out earlier sting her eyes. "This time it was one of us. And there was no miraculous return from the dead."

 

"Sam, I—"

 

"No," she interrupted, holding up her hand. "I understand what you did. If he really has ascended then I'm glad for him." She took a shuddering breath. "Which doesn't make it easier for me—especially when no one else seems to care that he's gone."

 

"That's not fair, Carter."

 

She had annoyed him, which should have bothered her, but didn't. "Was it fair to just ignore what happened? Business as usual? No one," she put extra emphasis on that, so he'd know she meant him, "would even talk about what happened."

 

"There was nothing to say."

 

She threw her hands up in frustration. "There you go again! How can there be nothing to say?"

 

"He's dead. There's nothing we can do bring him back. Damn it, Sam. You know that."

 

"I just don't want to be the only one who cares that he's gone!"

 

"You're not," he finally murmured, his voice weary. She looked at him in shock. He'd finally admitted it, so why didn't she feel any better? Because his earlier words haunted her. "That someone else under my command has died? Someone who was a hell of a lot more valuable to the SGC than I'll ever be?" His weary acceptance of that belief scared her. He was worth more than he evidently knew. And if not to the SGC, than he was worth everything to her. Which was something she took great pains to conceal from him. The something that they both denied.

 

She supposed if she tried hard enough, she could eventually suppress and deny how it felt when he kissed her, touched her, moved within her...but she didn't want to do that. The next time someone died it could be him—or her. She'd be a hypocrite if she ignored her tearful last words to Daniel. "I see what really matters. I don't know why we wait to tell people how we really feel." If she really could see what mattered and wanted him to be honest with her, then she had better be prepared to do the same.

 

Before her courage and determination could desert her, Sam crossed the few steps to where Jack sat. Sinking gracefully to the floor, she knelt at his feet. Ignoring the almost shocked look on his face, she clasped one of his hands between her suddenly very cold ones. Her senses seemed abnormally heightened in the quiet room. His hand, large and warm between hers, the inherent strength and gentleness present in them. The familiar scent of his after-shave mingled with the day's perspiration. The steady sound of his breathing. His beloved face, reflecting all the burdens and worries of the past few months, hell, make that years. And those deep brown eyes, that even now still held a heartbreaking combination of hope, fear and sad resignation.

 

She couldn't keep the slight quiver out of her voice when she finally spoke. "I told Daniel that I didn't know why we wait until it's too late to tell someone how we really feel about them." She gave a shaky laugh. "I guess we think we have plenty of time." She gripped his hand a bit tighter, picking her words carefully. "It's always been complicated between us. We've chose to ignore what we feel. I don't think I can do that anymore. I don't want to live half a life when it could all be taken away from me in the blink of an eye. I love you. You are the worth more to me than anything. And if Daniel's death is to having any meaning for me, then I want it to be that I finally decided to live."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

From the moment that she knelt at his feet, Jack's heart had ground to a halt. But when she told him she loved him, it started racing. He had long ago given up hope that she would ever want to fully acknowledge what lay between them. He had retreated into the shell of sarcasm and indifference that was his only protection from the pain of his love for her. And then Daniel had died and his best defense against the pain of that loss was to shut her out even more. Until now, until this. He wondered if Teal'c had planned this all along, with his ritual of the dead. Because it had certainly resurrected the hope he had that one-day he and Sam could be together. And in spite of his treatment of her, she still loved him.

 

"Sam," he murmured, still not ready to believe. "You should have thrown me out on my sorry ass the moment I put my hands on you. I was selfish and cowardly and don't deserve your forgiveness, much less another chance with you." He raised his other hand to her face and tenderly brushed away the tears that tracked silently down her cheek. "But I'm a selfish bastard and god help me, I'll take whatever you want to give me, for as long as I can."

 

"It's always been yours, you only had to ask." She sniffed loudly then and blushed, smiling self-consciously at the mundane interruption. He smiled back, feeling more lighthearted than he had in weeks. Tracing her cheek tenderly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He gently patted at her cheek before she took the soft cloth from him and wiped her eyes and nose. She sat back on her knees and he looked levelly at her.

 

"Well?"

 

She smiled and tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. "Well what?" she teased. At least he hoped it was teasing, otherwise she was being unusually dense.

 

"Well, I'm asking."

 

"Then I'm answering," she finally murmured. Her smiled was slow and incredibly seductive as she once more rose to her knees. Only this time, instead of taking hold of his hand with those slim, confident fingers, she inched closer and put her hands on his knees, urging him to move them apart.

 

He smiled in return then and gladly obliged, making space for her between his spread knees. Those same slim hands traveled slowly along his thigh and he actually shivered, already beginning to harden with the simplest of caresses. He'd already taken her once with more haste than care and he was determined that this time would be different. He would make love to her this time, not just use her body to satisfy his need. Gently grasping her wrists before her hands could venture any higher, he felt her stiffen and look at him, her blue eyes full of uncertainty.

 

"Don't you want—"

 

"Oh, don't worry," he interrupted. His firm grip changed to a caress and his thumbs rubbed delicately along the insides of her wrists. He rose to his feet, pulling her with him. "I definitely 'want'. I've always wanted," he murmured in amazement, only now beginning to fully understand the full depth of his need. "But this time," he smiled ruefully at her, grasping her hands with both of his now and kissing her quickly on the forehead, "I want a bed."

 

She laughed then, the sound sweet and low. He felt another thrill of pleasure and a fresh rush of blood go directly to his groin. God, he had to get them to a bed and he had to get back in control.

 

"Lucky for you I have a bed." She backed up and he released one of her hands, but kept a reassuring grip on the other. He eagerly followed her down a short hallway that he knew led to her bedroom. He knew it wasn't rational, but he was almost afraid if he let go of her, she'd disappear and he'd be lost again.

 

Her other hand moved and the bedside light flared on, illuminating the cozy room. He followed her in, looking around curiously. The room was inviting and feminine in an un-fussy, very Carter-like fashion. She was busy pulling the back the covers on the bed and he just stood and admired the sweet roundness of her ass. Definitely not something designed to slow down the sweet burn of passion, but now that they'd gone this far, he was almost helpless to control it.

 

"Jack?" she asked, coming to stand before him, her hands resting lightly on his waist. "What's wrong?"

 

"Just thinking about how much I want you." He matched her pose, his hands gentle at her waist. 

 

"Well, don't just think about it, do something about it."

 

"Yes ma'am," he replied smartly. "Whatever you want."

 

"Is that a promise?"

 

"Oh, it's more than a promise," he drawled, "it's a guarantee." He slid his hands beneath her soft blue sweatshirt, her skin warm and supple beneath his touch. She pressed closer to him, her hands meeting at his back. Lowering his head to hers, Jack met her upturned lips with an almost tentative touch. Their last—and first—time had flared out of control so fast that he was cautious now. It might kill him, but the slower he went the better it would be for Sam. And he wanted it much better this time.

 

Jack cherished her this time, instead of devouring her. He swept his tongue along her lips, asking for permission instead of taking. She made a soft sound of pleasure and her mouth opened for him. She tasted even more incredible than he remembered, savoring the velvety texture of her tongue, the smooth surfaces of her teeth as his tongue danced lightly in her mouth. The soft, low sounds she made told him of her pleasure, that and the way she clung to him.

 

Shuffling forward, Jack smoothly eased them both toward the bed. Once there he reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers. Sam's small pout of protest faded into a languid smile when he grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and started pulling it up. She raised her arms in an easy stretch as he pulled it over and off, carelessly letting it drop to the floor. She wore some thin, little undershirt thing that lovingly outlined her breasts and did nothing to hide her tight nipples. He trailed one hand almost reverently down her breastbone, the silky material almost coarse when compared with soft skin.

 

Jack went for her sweatpants next, sliding his hands along her waist in a lingering caress before hooking the waistband with his fingers and tugging the fleecy garment over her slender hips. She shimmied slightly and he let go, the pants pooling at her ankles. She stepped out of the tumbled clothing and Jack decided she'd never looked lovelier than when she stood before him now, the plain white panties and tank more arousing than any black lacy lingerie would ever be.

 

"Your turn," she murmured, her voice husky.

 

How he endured the sweet torment of her unbuttoning his shirt, he would never know. Each movement of her fingers seemed to be a deliberate caress as she slowly slipped each button through its hole. When his shirt was hanging free, he couldn't stop the slight shudder that ran through him when she flattened her palms on his chest, smoothly moving the cloth aside. She smiled then, a very feminine, knowing one and smoothed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The gentle caress of her hands and the material sliding off his body almost made him lose his resolve to go slowly. Especially when her nimble fingers fastened on the fly of his trousers, the soft and fleeting brushes of her fingers against his erection sending sparks of desire flaring through his rapidly overloading system.

 

Slow, he reminded himself when she finally managed to unfasten his trousers. She tugged and he let them drop, his hands grabbing her before she could work those clever fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her grumble of protest faded when he kissed her, forcing her back until she tumbled slowly onto the bed. He followed her down, settling himself half on top of her, wedging one leg between hers. And they started kissing. Long, slow, drugging ones. Her hands moved over his back, his shoulders and his hair, leaving trails of fire behind. 

 

Sliding his thigh further between her legs, he rubbed against her. She moaned softly into his mouth, hooking a leg around him and encouraging his movements. It felt so good, he thought hazily, kissing his way along her jaw to her ear. Nipping lightly on the delicate lobe, he pressed even more firmly against her when her pelvis arched in response. As much as he wanted to rip off their remaining clothing, he knew the moment flesh connected with flesh, it would be over. So, instead he contented himself with sliding one large hand beneath her undershirt, lightly stroking along her ribs until he felt the beginning swell of her breast.

 

"Yes, Jack," she sighed when he rubbed his thumb over the nipple, fondling the luscious mound. Her hands tangled with his as they both struggled to remove her top and then it was finally over her head and flung aside. He paused, braced above her and just looked. During their earlier frenzied coupling, he couldn't remember if he'd actually taken the time to appreciate her pale beauty. Her breasts were creamy white and he already knew they felt as soft and inviting as they looked. Her nipples were a dusky pink, twin tips already sensitized to his touch.

 

"Jack, please," she begged, her hands working their way between their bodies until she cupped her breasts, as if offering their pleasures to him. And only to him. The possessive thought roared through his brain and with a low growl, Jack lowered his head and took what she offered.

 

He was dimly aware of her hands in his hair, holding him to her while he took her breast into his mouth. Swirling his hot tongue around and over the tight peak, he bit gently before finally sucking it deep into his mouth. He suckled leisurely, the headlong rush of passion sated for the moment by the incredible sensations of her breast in his mouth. Her soft whimper when his mouth finally left her breast pleased him. Her hands tightened in his hair and she sighed with pleasure when he kissed his way to the other one, treating it to identical caresses. 

 

His hands weren't idle either, gently kneading the now abandoned breast. Tugging on the small nubbin with his teeth, he finally released her and surveyed his handiwork. Her nipples were tight, glistening a deep rose from his mouth, his touch. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her luscious lips parted and inviting as she panted. And her expression...her eyes were half closed and heavy with passion, a dreamy look of what could only be pure pleasure on her face. It was an expression Jack knew he'd never get tired of seeing. 

 

Leaning down, he nuzzled her breasts and began kissing his way down her belly. Hooking his fingers in the elastic of her panties, he started easing them down her hips, guided by feel alone. She helped him, lifting her hips but he finally had to move, shifting to the side so he could slide them down those incredibly long legs of hers. Again, he was mesmerized at the sight of her, and he truly wasn't sure whether it was from her beauty or the fact that she was with him...wanting him...loving him. He trailed a hand along one slender thigh, marveling at the incredible combination of femininity and strength. His ears caught her soft sigh and when she shifted, spreading her legs even more, he found himself helplessly drawn to her hidden secrets.

 

With a gentle hand on each knee, Jack coaxed her legs further apart. Stroking his hands up her inner thighs, he paused for a long moment, doubt once more washing over him. He'd abused her trust in him and taken advantage of her vulnerable state, not even caring whether she found any pleasure in their coupling. And then he knew what he needed to do.

 

"Help me, Sam," he ordered, his voice rough with desire and his hands gentle on her legs as he urged her to bend her knees. "Lift your hips," he added, grabbing a pillow. 

 

"What?" she murmured, her eyes flying open, dazed and questioning. 

 

"I hurt you last time."

 

"No, not really..." she protested, her voice fading when he slid a hand under her butt, coaxing her to move. She complied, lifting her hips for the pillow and then opening herself to him in a show of trust that humbled him and only made him more determined to put her pleasure first. She gasped, her whole body vibrating, when he delicately stroked through her damp flesh in a determined caress.

 

"Yes, really," he muttered, lowering his head and settling himself between her spread legs. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling her soft curls. She smelled of soap and even though she'd tried to wash it away, he could still detect the lingering scent of their first encounter. Tenderly parting her silky folds, Jack took his time seeking out her clitoris. He fondled and caressed her until she was once more panting and gasping his name with each breath she took. Finally isolating the bud of her pleasure, Jack began licking and sucking the small nubbin. 

 

She groaned and he felt the slender hand in his hair tighten, the bite of her nails a sweet accompaniment to the arousal riding him hard. Jack paused when he dimly realized he'd started moving his hips, rubbing his painfully erect penis between his belly and the bed sheets. He forced himself to stop, hanging onto the last of his self-control with a grim determination and taking a deep breath, returned to his self-appointed mission of pleasure. 

 

And what pleasure it was. Jack fastened his mouth back on her sweet flesh, suckling insistently at her clitoris. When she moaned raggedly and began moving her hips rhythmically with his touch, he wrapped his left arm around one thigh to slow her movements. With his other hand, he began stroking through her now slick folds, spreading the moisture of her arousal on his fingers before probing gently. Deftly sliding first one, and then two long fingers into her, Jack tightened his grip on her thigh, holding her securely when her back arched and her hips bucked at the deep caress. 

 

When she sobbed his name, Jack instinctively knew she was close. Loosening his grip on her thigh, he managed to keep his mouth fastened on her when she started rocking her pelvis. Thrusting his fingers in time with her movements, Jack continued his persistent assault on her swollen bud until he pushed her over the edge. She cried out his name, her entire body shuddering as ecstasy swept through her. The relief he felt with his lover's climax should have surprised him, but it didn't. He would gladly spend the rest of his life making sure she felt nothing but happiness if he could. But for now, he was just gratified that he'd brought her some fleeting pleasure.

 

When she finally lay quiescent, Jack gave her one last, lingering kiss and gently removed his fingers before crawling up her limp body. Cradling her face between his hands he kissed her, coaxing her lips apart. She moaned softly and opened her mouth, her arms wrapping around him as the deep kiss continued. When he finally pulled away, her eyes fluttered open and when she focused on him, she smiled. It was like a punch in the gut, her smile was incandescent, the look of satisfaction on her face making him feel like he'd just saved the world single-handed from the Goa'uld. The fingers of one hand seemed to almost idly caress his nape and then she murmured his name.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Jack." She wasn't sure how she found the energy to even say his name, much less stroke his hair. But she wasn't stupid and she knew he was restraining himself because of their earlier encounter. "It's okay," she said, searching his deep brown eyes, wordlessly communicating that it was all right, that she was all right...that they were all right. When he didn't move, she slowly let one hand drift down between their bodies until she could touch him, caress him and urge him to finish what he'd started. 

 

"Sam," he groaned, his hips moving against her while she stroked him.

 

Flexing her knees even more, she shifted her pelvis, encouraging him to move. "Jack...help me," she murmured, a helpless cry escaping when she felt the first touch of his penis against her ultra-sensitive flesh. His eyes flared with fire then and she knew he was once more with her. "Yes," she whimpered, guiding him to her tender opening. She kept her eyes open this time, needing the connection, needing to watch him. His eyes never left hers, the fierce passion in his eyes burning her as he slowly took her. And as intense as it had been the first time, it was nothing like this time, when she shared the experience with him. Oh god, and then he was fully sheathed within her body, touching her womb. She moaned again, angling her pelvis to ease the exquisite pressure and wrapped her slim legs around his waist. He groaned then, sinking even deeper—something she hadn't thought possible. 

 

She wrapped her arms around his as well, when he eased his weight down on her, his hands cupping her shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of her neck then and started moving. Slow, deep thrusts that pressed her into the mattress, pulling out of her almost completely before once more thrusting home. And that moment, the incredible rightness of what was happening between them almost overwhelmed her. He was home...she was home, as long as they were together. 

 

It took longer than she expected, given the depth of hunger she could sense within him. But soon enough his movements became more erratic and then he gripped her shoulders hard and thrust powerfully, grinding his hips against her, flooding her with his seed. The soft swells of pleasure that built within her were as unexpected as they were welcome. Sam was thankful that the resultant contractions of her internal muscles around her lover's engorged length would serve to increase his pleasure. It wasn't that she didn't want her own pleasure, but there was something infinitely fulfilling in knowing that her lover found satisfaction and—she hoped more importantly—peace in her arms. 

 

She held him then, keeping him safe within the shelter of her arms and body for the long moments that he shuddered helplessly in her arms. Sam knew she'd come to cherish these moments, when her strong Colonel was vulnerable, savoring the all to brief minutes when he would let his guard drop and let her into the hidden recesses of his heart. This time he didn't fall asleep on her, instead he carefully rolled off her onto his back. She was still unsure enough to be thankful when he immediately pulled her into his arms. Settling into his arms, Sam tugged the sheet up over them and then rested her head on his chest.

 

"Better?" His voice was a low murmur above her head. 

 

The hand that had been idly stroking his chest paused as she considered his question. Better? He usually wasn't one to ask questions that had multiple levels of meaning, so she wasn't sure if she was reading more into that one word than he'd intended. Deciding she didn't want any further miscommunications between them regarding their current situation she raised up on one elbow and looked down at him.

 

He didn't say anything more, simply looked up at her. She studied him for long moments. She could tell he was more relaxed, though he still looked incredibly tired. It would be days before those dark circles under his eyes disappeared. As to the wariness lurking in their brown depths, well, she could take care of that now. Sam reached up with the hand that had been resting on his chest and tenderly stroked the worry lines on his forehead, smoothing her hand through his short hair.

 

"I'm better, if that's what you mean." She hadn't even realized how tense he still was until she felt his muscles relax even more, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "We're better too," she murmured. His eyes lit up with that comment and he turned his head, nuzzling her palm where it rested against his cheek. "And the sex," she smiled silkily and squirmed a bit against him, her breasts pressing nicely into his chest, "the sex was much better." She saw some of the light went fade out of his eyes.

 

"Was it just sex?"

 

She took a deep breath, surprised by his question. "The first time, yes," she answered honestly and he nodded in agreement. "This time?" Her fingers feathered delicately along his cheek, lightly tracing his lips before she continued. "This time wasn't about using and taking...this time was about life...and love." The sparkle returned to his eyes and this time he grabbed her caressing hand and kissed her palm. 

 

Satisfied, she lay back down and curled up against his side. She was realistic enough to realize that for now, this was as close as she would ever get to a declaration of love from him. But it was enough, the revelations of the last few hours more than enough of a foundation for them to begin building their life together.

 

EPILOG

 

Teal'c took the double serving of lasagna from the rather timid looking server and rumbled in what he hoped was a suitably menacing voice. "I require garlic bread as well." The intimidated worker shoved the entire tray of bread towards him. Teal'c inwardly smiled but kept an appropriate glare on his face as he carefully selected six pieces of the thickly sliced bread. Inclining his head slightly, he continued through the rest of the cafeteria line, adding two parfait glasses of orange jello and an assortment of fruit to his already loaded lunch tray. 

 

Smiling amiably at the cashier, he scrawled his name on the meal roster. Picking up his tray, he turned and surveyed the crowded dining room. He finally spotted a familiar blonde head in the far corner and determinedly made his way through the tangle of tables and chairs. 

 

"Major Carter." She looked up at the sound of his voice and smiled. "May I join you?"

 

"Of course, Teal'c," she gestured towards one of the two empty chairs at her table with a spoonful of blue jello. He chose the chair opposite of her and unloaded his heavily loaded tray onto the table.

 

"Hungry?" she commented dryly. 

 

He merely grunted and began wolfing down the lasagna, interspersed with mouthfuls of the green beans and peas that had been the vegetables offered that day. While it might have appeared that he was concentrating solely on his food, Teal'c was very much aware of what was going on around him. He was pleased to note that his friend looked relaxed, the atmosphere of despair that had surrounded her after Daniel Jackson's death had slowly faded over the past month. The dark circles under eyes were gone and she had once more the Samantha Carter he knew and had developed a great affection for. Of course--

 

"Got room for one more?" 

 

O'Neill stood at their table, smiling at them. Make that smiling at her, Teal'c decided smugly, not at all put out.

 

"Sure, Colonel." Her tone was respectful and appropriately enthusiastic but Teal'c had seen the flash of love and desire in her eyes when she looked at her commanding officer. That he had been looking for it was beside the point. Grunting non-comittally, Teal'c moved some of his plates over while Major Carter did the same, allowing O'Neill to put his tray on the table.

 

O'Neill had selected the lasagna as well, Teal'c noted. However he hadn't managed to acquire more than two slices of the garlic bread. Teal'c waited for the inevitable comment and wasn't disappointed. 

 

O'Neill gestured to Teal'c's plate with his fork. "How does he do that?" he complained. "They never give me more than two pieces."

 

Major Carter actually giggled and Teal'c found himself so surprised by her unguarded reaction that he almost choked on the bread he had in his mouth. And then much to his annoyance—and embarrassment—O'Neill was pounding him on the back. 

 

"Hey there T, buddy. You okay?"

 

His coughing spasm finally finished, Teal'c swallowed and collected himself before murmuring, "I am fine, O'Neill. You may stop hitting me."

 

"Oh, yeah...sorry about that." 

 

Teal'c carefully picked up his water and drank. Both O'Neill and Carter looked at him closely, but appeared satisfied when he didn't choke again.

 

"So," Major Carter said, scooping up another cube of jello. "I hear that Captain Reinsvold asked to be reassigned?"

 

"Yeah," O'Neill muttered around a mouthful of lasagna. "Too much stress or some load of crap like that."

 

Major Carter stifled another giggle and Teal'c merely grunted. Captain Reinsvold had been adequate, but Teal'c would not be sad to see the man go. 

 

"Any other candidates?" Major Carter asked.

 

Teal'c continued to eat, only half paying attention to the idle conversation of his two friends. He simply enjoyed the return of their usual camaraderie, most pleased that the rift between them had been healed. He had been leery at first, when Major Carter had first approached him about including her in the ritual he planned to perform for Daniel Jackson. But her grief had been sincere and as he'd considered her request, he had acted on his intuition. Certainly not something he did all that often, but he had sensed the same aura of sadness surrounding O'Neill and had decided that they all would benefit from honoring their fallen comrade. 

 

That O'Neill and Carter had grown...closer since that day was an added benefit and Teal'c calmly felt he was the only person who had noticed. Ever sensitive to the nuances of the two people he worked the closest with, he had waited almost anxiously for evidence that the ritual had helped them. Their first day back on duty after that weekend had reassured him. That they had resolved whatever issues between them would have been obvious to a blind man, which he was not. That they had crossed the boundary between their respective ranks was less obvious, but then he had been privy to their secrets before and would guard this one as carefully. And if Daniel Jackson's death was to have any honor, then Teal'c was glad that it would be the honor of bringing happiness to two of the people he counted as his closest friends. 

 

THE END


End file.
